Malia the Matchmaker
by Destiny919
Summary: Malia might be the one Stiles is kissing, but Lydia is the one he loves. And Malia knows that, but she's a bit confused about whether or not Stiles does.


Since joining the pack, and starting to date Stiles, or making out with him mostly, Malia had noticed a few things about her new friends. Specifically, about said make out partner and Lydia the redheaded - oh, excuse her, _strawberry blonde_, thanks for the correction, Stiles - banshee.

They were small things, innocuous things, but they added up to something very large. If the three of them sat on the couch, Stiles in the middle, it was Lydia his arm just naturally went around. Both of them sat that way, leaning into each other, completely comfortable. Meanwhile Malia watched them out of the corner of her eye, reasonably certain despite her lack of experience with life that this is not normal behavior between two platonic friends especially when one of them is also sitting next to the girl he is ostensibly _not_ platonically involved with.

They held hands at just random times. Sitting at lunch in school, the pack huddled around their own table, Stiles and Lydia were again next to each other - Malia sometimes sat across, it depended on who arrived and sat where first. If their hands were both within convenient distance, they'd grab a hold of each other, fingers twining tightly. Malia raised her eyebrows at them, and said nothing. Maybe they'd done that for ages without being in a relationship. She hadn't been around long enough to know. She'd hardly been around long at all, it wasn't really her place to judge too much. Besides, making out with Stiles was too good to give up over something she wasn't sure about.

It was when things started getting bad - getting bad again, she found out, things were usually bad in Beacon Hills - that the big things, the undeniable things, started happening, and adding up to something huge.

When Lydia had a banshee episode, or simply got upset and overwhelmed, Stiles was always, always, _always_ the one to comfort her. He was the one to wrap her in his arms and murmur reassurances and promises and calming things into the girl's ear, even if her best friend the huntress was just to the side.

Likewise, when Stiles had a panic attack, especially about the period when he was possessed by the nogitsune - something Malia had only witnessed briefly, but that was more than enough, how could any of them especially him have dealt with that? - or was himself in need of calming, Lydia was so often the first one on the case. Scott frequently took care of his friend, but their alpha couldn't always be there when distress called, probably because he was answering another one. So Lydia would hold him and whisper to him and Malia sometimes caught a few remarks from both of them about locker rooms and holding your breath and a shared memory between them of which she had no idea.

One big push finally made her realize.

Stiles had just had a gun literally touching his forehead, the owner's finger on the trigger with every intention of pulling it. The boy hadn't moved a muscle, his stare remaining steady. Malia wasn't speaking or moving either, that was kind of hard when she was tied up and gagged with mistletoe restraints. On the contrary, Lydia, tied up with ordinary rope but her mouth very thoroughly covered to prevent the banshee from releasing her wail, was struggling furiously, tears streaming from her green eyes that were wide with terror and agony as she stared at Stiles.

It was mere seconds before a bullet was going to be sent straight through Stiles' brain when Scott, red alpha eyes blazing and howling so fiercely he could have been a roaring dragon, burst into the room. He tackled them to the side so fast and hard they didn't even know it happened before they'd been disarmed and knocked thoroughly unconscious. Kira, katana out and possibly covered in blood, came sprinting in behind him.

Breathing heavily, Scott had moved immediately towards Lydia, who was closer to where he'd landed the gunslinger. He didn't untie her, just ripped his claws through the rope and removed the gag. Kira came over to relieve Malia of her painfully poisoned fetters.

As soon as she was free, Lydia all but flung herself across the room towards Stiles, who despite not having been tied up, was still sitting in the chair, silent and unmoving as he'd been with the gun touching his skin. She took no notice of this, however, sobbing and practically crawling into his lap as she clung to him and mumbled _you're okay, you're okay, you're okay, Stiles, I could feel it coming, you were going to die, you can't die, you can't, you can't, you can't. _The boy finally thawed when he felt her forehead touch his and her tears drip onto his own cheeks. It seemed as though one second he was just sitting, and the next his arms had a vice-grip around Lydia, his face pressed to her hair and neck as his whole body shook.

The other members of the pack, each beaten and bloodied to varying degrees but all intact, had come in after making sure the other enemies were finished. Malia just stood with them and kept watching the boy and girl cling to each other with an almost feral desperation. And trust her, Malia knew all about feral.

Now she knew for certain the fact that had hovered around the edge of her consciousness almost since she first met them all. Stiles and Lydia were in love. Powerfully, passionately in love. And evidently they didn't know it, or at least Stiles didn't, because if he did then what was he doing with her instead of the strawberry blonde clutching him like he was her lifeline? Really, she'd been led to believe that Stiles was rather brilliant, the pack's best detective, who intuitively sussed out the situation with such improbable accuracy that it was sometimes hard to believe he was human and not another supernatural creature to add into the mix. So this obliviousness was rather out-of-character.

But the make outs were still too much fun, honestly. And though it wasn't saying much, Stiles was the person she was closest to in the pack. If she told him what she'd observed, and broke up with him, or ended whatever they had going on, it might make things sufficiently awkward or distanced that she'd be left adrift, again. So Malia bit her tongue for now.

Until yet another thing finally, finally came to her attention.

Malia, Stiles, and Scott were talking about where she had essentially left off with her human experiences. Specifically, the beginning of third grade.

"The accident happened in September and I missed out on everything for the next eight years, basically," she grumbled. "Like, what did we even learn in third grade?"

Stiles shrugged, and Scott snorted. "I don't remember learning much of anything, but Stiles learned who he was going to marry."

Stiles made a choked noise, and swiftly punched Scott pretty hard on the shoulder. The Alpha of course wasn't hurt in the slightest, but he did realize his mistake and look stricken. Malia looked back and forth between them. "Are either of you gonna explain? Stiles, marry, who, what?"

Head in hands, Stiles didn't answer. Scott, looking guilty, came forth with the answer. "We, uh, we met Lydia in third grade. And Stiles decided he was going to marry her someday."

Malia's eyebrows flew up. "Oh. I . . . assume he hasn't, so what's the big deal?"

Looking even more guilty, the werewolf explained further, "He actually, um, has been - was - in love with her ever since then? Like, he crushed _hard_. Only Lydia used to be really different, so she basically ignored him."

"I just wasn't on her radar, okay," Stiles mumbled from behind his palms.

All the girl could do was blink. "Wait, lemme get this straight. You were in love with Lydia for like, eight years, and knew it."

"Knew it?" Scott laughed. "He barely shut up about it."

Stiles' body curled over till his head rested on the table.

"Then what the hell?" Malia demanded. "I already knew you were crazy in love with her, Stiles, I just thought _you_ didn't realize!"

The boy in question looked up again for the first time. "What? What are you talking about?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes a little. "It's kind of obvious, okay. But I thought you were totally unaware, since if not then what were you doing with me?"

"Uh."

"Yeah, exactly." Malia crossed her arms over her chest, but she smiled at him. "It's okay, Stiles. We've never really been a serious thing. What's really not okay is you not going to confess your undying devotion to Lydia Martin the redheaded goddess."

"He's done that like six times," Scott said, at the same time that Stiles said, "She's strawberry blonde."

She rolled her eyes again, more dramatically this time. "Well, go do it again, for real this time."

Stiles shook his head. "Lydia doesn't like me that way."

Malia snorted hugely. "No, you're right, she doesn't _like_ you that way. She _loves_ you! Like, goddamn, aren't you supposed to be smart or something? I mean, I was a coyote for eight years, and even I can see it. Dumbass."

"Thank youuuuu," Scott moaned. "I've been wanting to tell him that since she saved us both from death by fire."

Stiles stared. "What, all the way back at Glen Capri? She didn't -"

"Yeah she did," Scott cut him off. "She liked you, at least. And damn, if not, then she certainly did by the time she was your _emotional tether_, for Christ's sake."

The other boy flushed, looking down at his hands.

"Do you believe us now?" she asked. He didn't answer for a long moment, but then nodded his head. "Good." He looked up, and she grinned at him. "Go get the girl."

He didn't need telling twice. Flailing in several directions and almost tripping over his own feet, Stiles staggered out of his seat and sprinted out of the house. Both were-creatures could hear the roar of his Jeep as it started and went off down the street - quite a lot faster than the legal limit, by how quickly the sound faded.

Malia and Scott exchanged a triumphant high-five, and the werecoyote smiled to herself. Apparently matchmaking could be as much fun as making out. The smile took on a wicked edge as her mind went to Sheriff Stilinski and Melissa McCall…


End file.
